At Home
by CollaborationSPN
Summary: Mary's death made Dean a firefighter and Sam a college student. They have become strangers, unaware of each other's existence until the suspicious death of Jessica Moore leads Dean to Stanford, to the world of the supernatural, and to the brother he thought was dead.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: We do not own the series.**

_Prologue__:_

After waking up just a tad bit late this morning, seeing the clock about fifteen minutes off from what she was expecting to see, Mary Winchester was halfway down the stairs before even fully awakening. As she gathered all the necessary items for breakfast she blissfully thought of her plans for today. Then she heard the slight shifts her boys made as they turned in the beds upstairs, and a small smile graced her lips before she remembered that breakfast had to make its way onto the table in the next ten minutes. Today was a special day after all.

She then heard soft, slow feet drag themselves along step by step to the foot of the stairs. Until Dean appeared around the corner, yawning and wiping his eyes with a closed fist. He shuffled over to her slowly. Hugging her waist before sinking into her as his eyes fluttered shut yet again. Mary's eyes twinkled at her oldest son as she lifted him up into her arms, grunting slightly since he had been growing like a weed recently.

She carried him into the other room to lay him out on the couch, but just before she could untwine his small arms from around her neck, he shifted and pulled her closer. Mary's eyes closed as she let out a content sigh. And she couldn't help but think that this was what motherhood was all about.

But, of course, she still had preparations to do, and breakfast was still needed. So giving him one last kiss on the forehead, she disentangled herself and headed back to the kitchen. Miraculously, she was able to finish just as she heard John making his way down. And if the way his was murmuring was any indicator, he had brought her little Sam down as well.

"Hey honey," John murmured, as he gave her a quick hug from behind. "Is breakfast ready?"

"It's on the table," she replied, pulling out the orange juice and set it on the table. Meanwhile, John got Sam, who was burbling happily, situated in his high chair. As they sat down, Mary made her way to grab her oldest, who had rolled over and seemed as if he was hugging the pillow he had grabbed to death. Stifling a laugh, she slowly loosened his grip and started to gently shake him.

"Dean. Baby. It's time to get up," she whispered into his ear. "Don't you remember what today is?"

Dean's eyes tentatively blinked up at her smiling face. "Mommy?"

"Yes honey, it's me." She started to pull him to his feet. "C'mon, breakfast is on the table and I made your favorite."

"PB&J with the crust cut off?" He asked hopefully.

"Only for you." She laughed. "Kay, off to the table. You need to be ready for today."

"What's going on today?" Mary's eyes widened comically.

"Don't tell me you've forgotten?" She questioned in a half-teasing tone. "Haven't you been looking forward to today for weeks?"

Dean looked confused for a very moments before understanding flooded his face. "Today I can wear my firefighter hat to school!"

"But not if you don't hurry up and eat for breakfast. So get a move on." They made their way to the kitchen table where John was finishing up his meal. "John did you feed Sam?"

"Oh, no I didn't." He started to get up, gathering his dishes as he did so. "I need to get going. So can you take care of that?"

"I guess I don't have much of a choice," Mary huffed as she started pulling Sam's food out of the cabinet, a frown evident on her face. Dean was staring down at his plate as he listened the interaction between his parents. And as they both heard the front door open they both froze, only relaxing once hearing the door close. Mary sighed as she thought of how frustrating and insensitive John could be. She forced a smile on her face despite her anger, closing the cabinet before turning around to face Dean. "And you mister. You're just about ready to get dressed and leave, aren't you?"

"Yes, Mommy," he said quietly, his eyes downcast. Mary couldn't help but frown again as she took notice of his sad behavior.

"That's no way to be acting," Mary admonished as lightly as she could as she sat down in front of Sam, opening a container of food in the process. She began to feed her youngest as she told Dean, "You need to brush your teeth and get dressed before you can grab your firefighter hat."

"Okay, Mommy," Dean nodded slowly, and began to head out of the kitchen, that same sorrowful expression still lingering in his forest green eyes.

Mary, ever observant, especially when it came to her children, put down the spoon she's been using to feed Sam. The six month old, happily unaware of the situation at hand, continued shrieking in laughter, babbling to himself as a chubby hand reach for the spoon stuck in the half- finished jar of apple puree.

"Dean," Mary sighed. "Come here, baby." She waited as Dean trudged back to her, studiously evading her gaze.

When he was close enough, Mary comfortingly took one of Dean's small hands and used her other to cradle his cheek. Dean's eyes reluctantly turned back to her, trouble written clearly across his face.

"Now, tell me. What's wrong, baby?"

"Nothing."

"Oh?" Mary arched her brow and Dean flushed, drawing away from his mother slightly and suddenly finding his Batman socks very intriguing.

"It's just…" he began hesitantly.

"Mmhm?" Mary encouraged.

"Dad," Dean murmured, his voice so faint, it was almost inaudible. Dean coughed, tracing a square tile on the floor with his toe. "You and Daddy, I mean."

"Oh, honey." Mary tried to keep her voice comforting, smooth, yet there was an undeniable tremble in it as she remembered each rift she'd had with John over the past few months. It wasn't just that he'd forget to help her with Sam and Dean every now and again-that kind of thing was trivial. But added to how long John usually was away from home and his growing distance from her and their sons made her livid, frustrated, and hurt all at once.

"Daddy and I are okay, Dean," Mary assured. Nevertheless, she felt the obvious lie burn bitterly as it left her lips. Suddenly, short arms were around her waist.

"Daddy still loves you," Dean whispered.

"I know he does. So chin up and smile, sweetie. Can you smile for Mommy?"

Dean glanced up from where his face had been previously pressed against her stomach and attempted a half-hearted grin.

"Come on, you can do better than that, can't you?" With that, a mischievous twinkle made its way into Mary's eyes and before Dean could blink, he was being tickled.

"Mooommmmyy," Dean complained, laughing and recovering from the attack long enough to sprint behind the island in the middle of the kitchen.

Mary grinned and approached the island slowly. A full-blown smile graced Dean's face now as he tried to figure out which way with mother would go.

"I'll tell you what, Dean," Mary said as she darted right, only for Dean to go left. They paused again at opposite ends of the island.

"If you can keep that smile for the whole day, I promise-no more tickle attacks _and_ there will be pie when you get home."

"Apple?" Dean asked hopefully. His eyes barely reached above the island.

"Apple," Mary confirmed. "Do we have a deal, Ace?"

"Yeah! Can I have a piece this big?" He asked while motioning with his hands.

"We'll see about that," Mary laughed at his antics. "But you need to go to school first."

"Ok, ok. I'm gonna get dressed right now!" He all but shouted as he scrambled out of the room. Mary gave a small chuckle at his earnest nature as she finished giving Sammy his food. She looked around before realizing that she still needed to make Dean his lunch. Taking Sammy into her arms, she carried him into the other room and set him down in the crib there. She began to turn the mobile as he watched on with wonder and amazement. With one last look at his face, which was wide-eyed, she murmured a quiet 'I love you' before turning back into the kitchen.

While hearing Dean race up above, she was able to quickly get his lunch together. Putting the finishing touch of a paper towel with the words 'Angels are watching over you' on it into the bag. Mary smiled as she heard Dean jump two steps at a time down the stairs before running over to her. "Mommy! Mommy, I can't find my firefighter hat!"

Looking at his terribly serious face, she couldn't help but tease him a little. "I'm starting to wonder whether or not you actually want to be a firefighter when you grow up. Losing your hat…"

"I-I thought I had it bu-but I just can't find it anywhere. I really do want to be a firefighter!" He choked out, eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"Oh honey, I know you do." She pulled him into a hug. Holding his shaking body close to hers. "Here, how about I find your hat for you and drop it off at your school before you present. What time are you presenting again?"

"Uh...after lunch," He voiced tentatively, unsure of himself.

"Ok. Be on the lookout for me then. I'll be sure to drop it off before then. I might even be able to try and see your presentation if your little brother Sammy is on his best behavior." She gave him one last squeeze before letting him go. "Now let's get ready to go."

As he nodded she grabbed Sam from his crib, "We have some time, so how about we walk today? Does that sound fine?"

"Yeah," Dean gave his consent, still clutching onto her dress however as he trailed behind her. He softly whispered, "I really hope you can stay."

"I hope so too." She said as well when they walked out the door.

It wasn't long before they arrived at the school, and Dean had a big smile on his face as he rushed off to his classroom. Mary waved at first, until realizing she realized that he wasn't going to turn around to wave once more. Her smile faltered for a mere second as she shifted Sam in her arms. She cooed to Sam, "It seems like your brother is a big boy now. I guess we better get going now." She chuckled as Sammy burbled happily in response while they started the trek back home.

The walk home was uneventful to say the least. And after setting Sam down for his nap, Mary started preparing the pie she had promised Dean. Soon it was ready to be put in the oven, but a quick glance at the clock revealed that it was nearing Dean's lunchtime. And she still had to search for his firefighter helmet. She knew she didn't have time to bake it just yet, so after covering it with a towel she merely just started searching for the helmet.

Going through his room, she wasn't able to find it anywhere. And it was nowhere in sight in any of the rooms downstairs. But just as she passed by Sammy's room, she noticed it out of the corner of her eye laying down in the corner of his nursery. Mary made her way straight to it and grabbed the helmet. As she blew off some dust that lightly covered it, she remembered why it was there. She chuckled at the memory of Dean reading a story he made up for Sam the other night. His helmet sitting askew on his head when he nodded off beside Sam. When John had picked Dean up to take him back to his room, the helmet had fallen off and had not been deemed important to pick up the other day.

Mary turned around to grab Sam so that they could start making their way to drop the helmet off to Dean, when instead she came face to face with a shockingly familiar yet different face. Yellow-eyes blinked amusedly at her, as she rushed over to Sam, shocked when she saw blood smeared around his lips. "What did you do?"

"My dear, I merely was coming back to collect payment regarding our deal. My question is why are you here?" He drawled. "I told you I was coming. Did I not?"

"Yes you did." She bit out. She looked anxiously around the room for anything, anything, that could help her. Mary left Sam in his crib to free up her hands. She could tell she was running out of options.

"Can't we make a new deal? One that doesn't involve my children." She turned to face Azazel.

"Oh bartering, are we? I'm very sorry but I am only here regarding payment. No other transactions are authorized, no matter how tempting. And to be quite honest, Sammy is a very important person to me." Azazel chuckled. "And don't even think of trying to run away with him. You know you won't even get one step out of this room."

A split second later, she grabbed Sam and tried to rush past Azazel, not caring for the warning he had just imparted. But as he had promised, she didn't get one foot out of the room before she felt herself being pulled back. She struggled against invisible forces as she tried to keep her grip on Sam. Azazel walked over slowly, clicking his tongue in a disapproving manner. "Why don't you people ever listen? Ahh careful now, can't be having you drop Sammy now, can I?"

She screamed and cursed him as he slid Sam out of her arms. "Rot in hell! You bastard!"

"You say that almost as if surprised. And rest assured, I already rot in hell, but I'll make sure your precise Dean burns down there with me." He waved his hand and Mary felt herself slowly slide up the wall to the ceiling. Stopping once reaching the center. "Hmm not bloody enough."

He waved his hand once more. And Mary felt a sharp pain in her abdomen as she saw drops of blood fall to the floor beneath her. She gasped in pain when she felt flames lick her from behind. As her skin blistered in the intense heat, a single tear fell. Evaporating before reaching the ground and her falling in and out of consciousness. The only thing she was able to make out was the sound of Sam crying. She faintly murmured one last 'shh I love you' before the flames engulfed her completely as Azazel watched on. He walked out of the room, just as this all around began to catch fire.

"I guess I can't leave you here." He sniffed as he held the crying Sam out and away from him. "But I can't just take care of you. Hmm what to do…"

As he walked away while fire trucks rushed to the burning house, he remembered the custom to drop unwanted kids at a fire station. He chuckled to himself. "If that doesn't fit you to a tee, Sammy boy. Let's make this story a little bit more interesting. I'm sure you will feel right at home with all those other little kids who dream of having a normal life. But in your case, I'm afraid that isn't quite possible."

**A/N: Hello! So this is a collaboration story between my friend and I. Hope you enjoyed it. Would love favorites/follows/reviews, etc. For more information check out our profile which will contain any relevant info that you should know. And thanks for reading.**


	2. Chapter 2

"_Would Dean Winchester report to the office, please? Dean Winchester, report to the office."_

Dean paused, mid-bite. _It's Mommy_, he thought happily, putting his sandwich down. As he stood up, his friends "ooooooohhh"ed collectively, acting as though he'd gotten in big trouble or something.

"Shut up," Dean said, smiling.

"I'll watch this for ya, yeah?" Benny asked. Dean's eyes flickered to his friend, who was already rifling through Dean's lunch bag as he usually did.

"Mmhm, but don't knock yourself out. I'm not gonna be gone long," Dean replied.

"Yeah, yeah. Go get yelled at by the principle," Benny teased in return.

Dean gave his friend a playful shove before wandering off in the direction of the office.

…

All offices appeared the same to Dean.

It didn't matter whether it was the doctor's office or the school's office. They were all seemed the same.

For one, they were always cold, like it was always winter in there.

Next were the plants—always fake and pretending they could survive and bloom in a place that they just can't.

Needless to say, offices were foreign territory for Dean.

Yet knowing what he was to expect upon coming to the office, Dean had been anticipating this visit all day.

Thus, it shouldn't have been particularly hard for Dean to find his mother—a touch of familiarity in this strange place-with his firefighter helmet, but it _was_.

Namely, because she was merely not there.

Just like that, the office had become an unknown country to Dean again. Dean hesitated by the doorway through which he had entered, wringing the sleeves of his Batman crewneck unsurely.

Maybe Mommy had forgotten? Or perhaps Sammy was being fussy again. Or maybe there was traffic.

But if _that_ was a possibility, why had he been called?

"Something you need, sweetie?"

Dean was drawn out of his thoughts by a lady wearing a bright pink cardigan at the front desk smiling expectantly at him.

"Um, yeah," Dean said, approaching the lady slowly, eyes darting about all the while, hoping to catch sight of his mother.

Up close, Dean could read the lady's name tag. Ms. Masters. Inquisitive eyes peered down at Dean through lashes heavy with mascara and the smile that was too bright and faintly smudged with lipstick widened in encouragement.

"I'm…uh—" Dean started, but was cut off by a rough voice and a heavy hand on his shoulder.

"It's all right, I got him." Dean glanced upwards to see that it was his father who had spoken up.

Dean's brows furrowed. _Daddy doesn't seem like himself…_

Indeed, there was something more drawn about his father than usual.

That exhaustion was different from the exhaustion that graced his features after a long day at the garage.

That tension in his dad's jaw was different from the tension that would normally appear when his dad and mom would argue—an occurrence that happened more often than not lately.

"Daddy, where's Mommy?" Dean asked as his father led him away from the front desk, having gotten permission to take Dean, and towards the door through which Dean had originally arrived. "Where are we going?"

"Dean." And just like that, further questions died on Dean's lips. Green eyes peered up searchingly at his father, who suddenly knelt down to his level.

At a closer glance, Dean could see that his father's eyes were red-rimmed and slightly vacant, as if he were not all there.

"Ace, I'll answer your questions later. I promise you, I'll answer them. But right now, I need you to get your stuff and fast. No more questions, okay?"

Dean nodded mutely and with that, the two of them walked into the cafeteria.

By now, few kids were in the cafeteria, most having finished their lunch and gone outside to play.

The place Dean had been sitting at before had been cleared. Benny must have took Dean's lunch box for safekeeping.

Deep in thought and his mind reeling at a mile per minute, Dean continued walking towards his classroom, unaware that his father had paused at some point until he realized that the only footsteps he heard were his own.

Dean glanced back in time to see that his father was kneeling down to pick up a napkin that had been lying by Dean's lunch seat.

It was Dean's.

Dean watched his father examine the script on the napkin with an unreadable expression. His mother tried to write something different on his napkins each day and Dean wracked his brain for a minute, trying to remember what she had written today.

Oh, right. _Angels are watching over you._

When his dad remained a statue, Dean tentatively walked over and tugged on his father's leather jacket.

"Daddy?" he questioned.

"Hmm?" As if drawn from a spell, his father tore his gaze off the crumpled napkin and down at his son. "Oh, right. Sorry." He read his wife's neat script on the napkin for what seemed like one last time before balling it up and tossing it in the closest trashcan.

Dean's teacher, Mrs. Harvelle, had easily let the two of them into the classroom, and as Dean gathered his things, he tried to catch what his father was saying to her.

"…sorry for the trouble…sudden…family emergency…"

If he hadn't felt it before, Dean could definitely feel the pit of dread growing within him. He rushed to cram the last of his folders into his backpack and hurried back to his dad's side, nearly knocking over a classmate's telescope, meant for that day's presentations, in his haste.

Dean had almost forgotten about that—the presentations. His firefighter hat seemed like a world away now.

As Dean walked with his dad to the parking lot, the questions began bubbling up inside him again.

They were almost to the Impala when Dean wrenched his hand out of his dad's clutch.

"What family emergency?" he blurted out, fingers seeking the adjusters on his backpack before his dad could grab his hand back.

"Dean. I told you—not now. Now get into the Impala." His father's voice had hardened at the end. Dean shivered inwardly. It was the tone that brooked no argument, the tone his father took when Dean knew he was seconds away from deep trouble.

Dean swallowed, hesitating. He'd gotten this far…

"No," he said stubbornly. "I…I want to know what's going on."

"Dean Smith Winchester. I won't repeat myself."

"Neither will I."

"Dean-"

"I deserve to know!" Dean almost shouted before his dad could continue. On a roll now, Dean charged on. "I don't like this, Daddy. Where's Mommy? Where's Sammy? What are you not telling me?"

Dean paused there, chest heaving and fists shaking from his outburst before his eyes widened.

He'd _never_ gone against his father like that and as his father took a step closer, Dean closed his eyes, expecting some form of punishment.

"Dean," his dad said, for what seemed like the millionth time that day. Yet there was a quietness about that one syllable that made Dean's eyes open to see his dad kneeling at his level once more.

"Mommy's…not coming," his father began quietly. "Neither is Sam—Sammy."

"Why?" Dean whispered. "Did they go somewhere?"

His dad let out a broken chuckle. "Yeah. Th—they sure did."

"Where?"

John studied his eldest son. So innocent, still so young… He couldn't do this. There was no right way to tell his child that his mother and brother were long gone. No right way for even himself to comprehend it. So he left behind his Marine background in favor of something he had not been the best at, a father.

"Up," John finally said in response to his son's question.

"Up?"

"Mmhm. To the sky, sun, the moon, the stars."

"Why?"

"To become the angels watching over you."

"What happened to the angels already watching over me?"

"Well, after watching humans for so long, the angels wanted to become human. They wanted to know what is was like to talk to people and what pie tasted like and they wanted this so much that with every passing day they got sadder and sadder. So Mommy and Sammy offered to take their place, to say thank you to these angels for all they've done and to watch over you better."

"So…Mommy and Sammy are never coming back?" Dean's asked, his voice trembling slightly.

"No, Dean, they aren't," his dad said gently.

Traitorous tears slid down Dean's cheek and he furiously wiped them away as he pulled the Impala door open.

"I hate angels."

"You and me both, Dean."

**A/N: Hello! This is the other half of Collaboration SPN. Sorry for the Sherlock-sized hiatus, but hopefully the content makes up for it. Thanks for reading!**


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